


Dog Days

by nakiriknife



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 02:38:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9696032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nakiriknife/pseuds/nakiriknife
Summary: Jason wasn't a man of many words, but those four letters worked wonders for him in ways the man could never know, in ways Roy will aggressively deny.





	

        It was light and unsuspecting. A sneaking presence that squeezed his chest, suffocated his heart until there was no room in his lungs to take even a small breath. It awoke him from an already unsettled sleep, his consciousness teetering between a groggy mindfulness and lethargy until the morning beckoned him into full vigilance. This was what Roy would call a normal Tuesday night, but it was always enough for him to bear. Enough for him to smile convincingly in order to get through the day without much trouble. He was alone though and the tightness he felt now could easily weigh him down onto the cushiony confines of his bed if given enough thought, if left to his own devices. 

        The conversation earlier continued to echo within his head just as it did within fragmented nightmares. The argument — or rather Roy’s begging for a pet and then his whining over Jason’s flat out refusal to discuss the topic further than his stern “no.”

_A pet? I don't want a pet._

        Don't go jumping to conclusions. It wasn't the commitment that came with a pet that was the issue. Except it was the commitment that was the issue. Not with the pet. Just with the man that lived with him. _I asked if we could get a pet. There's no_ ** _we_** _. Well… not in that sense anyways._

        Everything seemed to be moving slow and fast all at once, ten seconds behind or all at the same time. Which wasn’t much seeing as he was in the darkness of his bedroom, doing nothing but lying on top of his mattress, a mess of limbs and tangles bedsheets. It felt differently though. It felt like he was juggling multiple tasks at once, struggling to finish them all and feeling the weight on top of his shoulders pile up more and more with each second that passed. Those multiple tasks were his thoughts, worries he couldn’t count on his fingers and toes overwhelming him.

        Roy's phone chimed softly, vibrating underneath the palm of his hand and time came to a halt. He felt a wave of uneasiness pass him, the dizziness from his thoughts making it hard to focus. The glow of the screen didn't console him, but the name (along with the many gun and fist emojis besides it) did. A simple one word response from Jason Todd. A small message to assure himself that the archer was awake. For Roy it simply confirmed the man’s laziness in getting up and finding out for himself. 

_Stop._

        Jason wasn't a man of many words, but those four letters worked wonders for him in ways the man could never know, in ways Roy will aggressively deny.

        Somehow turning to lie on his back only made it more difficult to breathe, as if the more he tried to lodge himself out of his predicament between a rock and a hard place, he'd only end up wedging himself in further. Still, he needed to respond to Jaybird's text. It was priority.

        It was easy to sound okay through text, behind a screen where Roy was perfectly concealed from Jason's observant eyes, eyes he found he wanted to be scrutinized under. He felt safe behind the screen where he wasn't quite alone, but starved for a connection other than Wi-Fi. 

        Briefly, he wondered if what he was about to do was acceptable, whether his best friend would be comfortable with letting Roy lay in his bed or just remaining besides him in awkward silence to appease his annoying roommate and his whines for attention. Either way the archer forced himself out of bed, bones creaking as if he hasn't moved in years, as if all his anxieties kept him a statue and he was shaking off the dust.

        Slowly, he padded over to Jason's room, walking in without knocking just as he always did, making himself at home on Jason's bed, neglecting the fact that he may have invaded his personal space just as he always did. Though, this time he was sure Jason wasn't going to complain about it, that this time his company was welcomed. That he, right now, was an exception.

        Red locks burned like fading embers under the dim lighting of his room, wisps of cooling flames spreading across Jason's pillows in a ginger mess. The gunman had to dip his hand into that fire, but the one who was risking third-degree burns was Roy.

 


End file.
